In Critiques For The Culture’s latest contribution to GayRVA, Taneasha White and Brooke Taylor review the Richmond Triangle Players’ Girlfriend, a love story about two young men coming of age in the 90s.

Girlfriend, written by Todd Almond and based on the 1991 album of the same name by alternative rocker Matthew Sweet, recently completed its run at Richmond Triangle Players. This pop-rock musical is based in Nebraska during the 1990’s, and centers on two new high school graduates. The young guys spend some time exploring their new found affection for each other, despite rural surroundings and traditional parents.

Our Ratings

Our Critiques for The Culture rating is based on representation of marginalized folks, showcased with our Black fists. Our overall rating is the quality of the play overall, independent of the representation that may or may not be there, represented with stars.

Brooke

My main criticism is with one of the primary story arcs of the show: The glamorization of red flags in relationships is a real problem for the LGBTQIA+ community, and the main character was the subject of manipulative tactics that we so often normalize. The audience chuckled every time that Mike, the straight-passing guy, mentioned his “out-of-town girlfriend,” but the “girlfriend” was nothing more than just a way to cover up his sexuality. This resulted in much of the emotional angst for Will, who ended up being the “undercover boyfriend” for a good portion of the show.

As easy as it is to write off manipulation in an ordinary coming of age story, it is important to call out: a relationship is not healthy if your partner forces you to hide or lie about your identity. Additionally, this show wasn’t unique when it came to casting choice — cis white gay men have quite a monopoly on Queer representation. 1.5 Black Fists.

This show was fun and light-hearted, reminding me of crushes that I had at a young age. Does she like me? Should I make the first move? How will I know? (Cue Whitney Houston.)

Girlfriend was an amusing play to watch. It did not take itself too seriously, which can be difficult to avoid in theatre. The live band was an added bonus, and the absence of an orchestra pit made the musicians feel like an integral part of the play’s structure. Even the choreography felt whimsical in nature. Cooper Sved’s portrayal of Will reminded me of Jordan Fisher from the 2018 live version of Rent! – very smooth in movements and line delivery. Ray Wrightstone’s characterization of Mike was brilliant, showcasing his ability to draw the audience into that classic teenage dating angst. Overall: 3.5 Stars

Taneasha

Richmond Triangle Players is the spot in the city where you can anticipate the plot of a show to be at least a little gay. That being said, when it comes to representation, this show didn’t exceed my expectations, because cis white guys tend to be the face of queer media. Luckily, there has been a lot of work being done to showcase the fullness of the queer community: the rise in popularity of TV shows like RuPaul’s Drag Race and Pose, or some of the central characters in Netflix’s Sense8 – but we could always use more.

I know that this show has been cast with white dudes in the past, but there’s always opportunity to shake things up, and ensure the art you’re putting out is representative of the community you’re serving. I’m always here for Queer stories that represent life, and I’m looking forward to seeing more of myself and the people I love within them. 2 Black Fists.

Sved and Wrightstone were adorable, and did a great job of making the audience feel all of those butterflies we feel when we have a crush. I appreciated how accurate the awkwardness was, and it definitely was cause for some high school reminiscing — all of the giggles, the slow hand-holds, stumbling over your words. I admit it: I love a good story arc that ends in gay love. Call me a sap if you wish, I accept it.

I also appreciated the musical arrangement of this show — it served as a thread that held the show together. There was a bit of very simple choreography, and it added to the natural, youthful feel of the show. It was very light on its own, and the upbeat music aided in keeping it that way. 4 Stars.

In Critiques For The Culture’s latest contribution to GayRVA, Taneasha White and Brooke Taylor review Firehouse Theatre’s production of Animal Control, a play that raises ethical questions around pet ownership.

Animal Control, written by Chandler Hubbard, made its second debut with a revised script at Richmond’s Firehouse Theatre this month. We had the opportunity to view one of their preview showings, thanks to director Joel Bassin. Animal Control follows Kim Hawkins, manager of the Carson City Pound, and discusses compassion, anger, and internal biases.

The care and consideration given to the dog in this story is unsettlingly reminiscent of the “Tommie the Dog” situation, making us wonder why the decision was made to host this particular play at this time.

For those that may have missed it, back in February a dog was tied to a fence and lit aflame in Abner Clay Park. The dog, nicknamed “Tommie” by those who rescued him, later died of his wounds. As a result of this heinous crime, the city rallied together to not only track down the person who committed the crime, but raised over $10,000 for an emergency veterinary care fund named the “Tommie Fund.” There’s nothing inherently wrong with this collective effort. However, the part that stings is that when it comes to Black and Brown folks who suffer violence or death in violent ways, especially in our city, a lot of those same people are quiet.

Our Ratings

Our Critiques for The Culture rating is based on representation of marginalized folks, showcased with our Black fists. Our overall rating is the quality of the play overall, independent of the representation that may or may not be there, represented with stars.

Photo by Bill Sigafoos, courtesy Firehouse Theatre

Brooke

Animal Control takes the audience on an emotional trip around the ethical considerations of dog ownership. It drew very sharp emotions from me as both an animal lover and a Black person, as the dog in this play is the recipient of much emotional labor by the characters. He was abused as a puppy and has trust issues that cause him to act out aggressively towards others. Even though he has lashed out before, the animal control agency the play focuses on is compassionate enough to give him chance after chance.

I was left wondering many things. What if we treated human beings this same, considerate way? What if the first reaction wasn’t to use lethal force at the slightest provocation? What would our country look like if we truly considered the mental health of folks who have been labeled as aggressive? How would our lives be changed if actual courthouse trials lasted at least as long as this play — and weren’t pushed towards plea deals? What if our underserved youth had adults who believed in them as much as this dog’s owner?

While I fully believe that animals deserve chances to be understood, why can’t Black and Brown people command that same level of respect?

Oh, to have all the love (and rights) afforded an American dog. 2 Black Fists.

From a technical standpoint, the play was great! I loved the sensory elements that were incorporated (cigarette smoke, audible sounds of barking dogs and rain, wet jackets of characters, etc.) The lighting was fantastic — aiding in the development of drama and tension through the acts of the play. 4 Stars.

Taneasha

Animal Control attempted to shine a light on the biases that people have, showcasing the owner of the aggressive dog as a cliche rural white man with a mullet, clad in cut off plaid and dirty blue jeans. We see that this character is actually very compassionate, and his care and fear show up in anger. The show gave an example of the complexity of anger, and how we shouldn’t assume people’s intentions and capabilities based on their appearance.

The bigger takeaway for me? White people care a whole lot about animals.

Watching people care more for animals than people who look like you is both a regular and an oppressive reality for Black and Brown people in America. Social media blows up when we get wind of another Black person killed, and I take note of who is vocal about what should happen and who is to blame. Folks who have been silent while folks are slain in the street, when Black trans women go missing and end up dead, are always too busy when asked to show up to a rally for our community. Yet those same folks were up in arms when the Tommie the Dog situation occurred. Suddenly, they had the time to post their own calls to action on social media. Suddenly, they had enough room in their budget to raise thousands of dollars in two days. Ten days after Tommie was found, Virginia politicians passed Tommie’s Law, making animal cruelty a felony in Virginia. Ten days.

Meanwhile, when Marcus-David Peters was shot and killed during a mental health episode on the highway by the Richmond Police, the advocacy group Justice and Reformation For Marcus-David Peters pushed for the Marcus Alert, which would, according to Justice And Reformation, “support mental health professionals as first responders to possible or confirmed mental health crises, rather than police officers trained to use deadly force.” It was met with silence. Peters has been gone over a year, and there has yet to be any progress made. If we don’t value the lives of animals over the lives of people of color, explain that fact to me. 1.5 Black fists.

In reference to the quality of the show overall, I was highly impressed by the details of the show. On either side of the stage, there were gates. This is where the characters that would be primary in the next act would stand right before the end of intermission, giving you an idea of the tension and feelings that would come up when the show resumed. The lighting was great, and added to the emotionality showcased by the actors on stage. It was very evident that all of the moving pieces of this show were taken into account, making it an all-encompassing experience. 4 stars.

Animal Control is currently playing at Firehouse Theatre, and will close on Saturday, July 27. For showtimes and tickets, go to animalcontrol2.bpt.me.

In Critiques For The Culture’s latest contribution to GayRVA, Taneasha White and Brooke Taylor examine the documentary Strange Negotiations, which tells the story of singer-songwriter David Bazan’s spiritual journey.

Critiques for The Culture is a conversational podcast and radio show (on WRIR and WRWK) that focuses on the socio-political themes found within current movies, TV, and plays — covering all with humor. Hosted by two Black Queer folks of varying opinion, Critiques for The Culture aims to dissect our media, point out where we aren’t represented, and say what the rest of us are thinking. Taneasha and Brooke make up the CFC duo — a couple of Black Queer folks who love their community, and love watching TV and movies.

Critiques for The Culture is committed to uplifting the voice of the marginalized. We aim to discuss representation (or lack thereof) within present media, and invite you all to be a part of the conversation. Our critiques revolve around TV shows, movies and documentaries.

Strange Negotiations came to Richmond on June 25, when the film was screened at Grace Street Theater and accompanied by a post-film Q&A. This music-focused documentary, directed by Brandon Vedder, traversed several different themes surrounding music, discovery, and faith in the life of David Bazan, lead singer of Pedro the Lion. Scenes of Bazan traveling across the country doing shows were strung together by confessional-style interviews over a soundtrack of his music.

Many know Pedro the Lion as a Christian rock band, and many others know the Christian religion to be notoriously unforgiving. The film showcases the way Bazan struggles to reconcile these things, taking you on a journey through his musical and religious beginnings. It ends with where he is now, and how he has managed to keep most of his die-hard fans sans Christian faith.

Bazan was captured in the documentary doing a lot of wrestling with his faith, as a lot of us do, when it rubs up against something you know within your gut is true. The only explicitly political example given, however, was the 2016 presidential election.

The election of 45 proved to be a catalyst for action for a lot of folks, and a flashlight for others. The singer-songwriter had spent essentially his whole life writing songs to extrapolate upon these themes that he’d been taught, and the election of a demagogue and the subsequent violence and outright hatred likely felt opposite to what he had come to understand. As people of faith, we understand this internal struggle. How can you identify with something that so many use as reasoning for their outright hatred?

Bazan chose to step away completely, realizing he did not believe in the way he once thought and said during the after-film talkback, “Moving away from assuredness[… ]is pretty destabilizing.”

Our Ratings

Our Critiques for The Culture rating is based on representation of marginalized folks, showcased with our Black fists. Our overall rating is the quality of the play overall, independent of the representation that may or may not be there, represented with stars.

Taneasha

“[…]At face value, I wonder how much minority representation will be present, as the director and subject are both straight-passing, white-passing men of Christian faith. However, Vedder said that the making of this film has made space for his “… own [Christian] identity to be questioned and poked at,” and that is the part that I’m excited about. Part of Critiques for The Culture’s mission is to get underneath what is initially seen, challenge some of these norms, and dig into what folks are often afraid to say. I’m hoping that this film does the work of challenging some of the stifling ideals that follow the louder voices we see so often in spaces […]”

Bazan was portrayed as a quiet, but emotional man, caring deeply to be involved with his family, but also to pursue what he deems as his calling. He needed time to figure out where he was supposed to be, and how he was supposed to bring this truth to the masses. There was minimal discussion about his wife and how she felt, with the primary point of negative emotion coming at the height of his alcoholism.

Though Vedder stated that his direction remained from one perspective on purpose, I wish that his wife had more of a role. I would have loved to know more about her journey, her opportunities (or lack thereof) to process her own religiosity, and how this worked in tandem with her husband.

In reference to some of the more political themes, my original hope around challenging some of the problematic ideals of the Christian far-right were only partially addressed by the film itself. Bazan spoke more candidly about white supremacy during the talkback and regularly does on his social media, but it feels as though some of these conversations were left out of the film on purpose.

The indie singer said that he wants to, “[…] stay in his own lane,” when it comes to speaking in public forums around topics like racism and sexism, because while he knows that they are the crux of what enabled 45 to gain the presidency, he feels that he doesn’t have the knowledge to illuminate others in the way he would like. Even so, there could have been more candid discussion around the -isms and the phobias that propelled this tyrant into office.

Bazan is having these culture change conversations in comfortable company; Vedder could have utilized his award-winning status to elevate these talks, utilizing the privilege that he and Bazan both have to be direct in who they are talking about and what can be done to change things in 2020. 1 Black Fist.

This film did a great job of capturing the internal struggle that Bazan went through, which highlighted the ways folks may cope in difficult situations. Throwing yourself into your work, consistently doubt yourself and those around you, engage in substance and/or alcohol abuse– all common negative ways of coping, unfortunately. I appreciated the capture of these struggles within the film, and the honesty that Bazan brought along with it. 3.5 Stars.

Brooke

“[…]Who are we, really, when we rip away the veil of religion and are forced to look into the mirror for ourselves? […] A big unknown is the amount of diversity that will be seen in this film. While it is very important to produce coming-of-age stories, I wonder if we will learn about the marginalized people in David Bazan’s life, and how they impacted his journey. Will this film be a Eurocentric, narrow scoped documentary that fails to incorporate the rest of the world, or will intersectionality take a central role?”

I went into watching this film wondering if I would enjoy it, and I left surprised by the amount of engagement I felt. I greatly appreciate Bazan, as he seems like a very thoughtful man, and was willing to answer every probing question from the crowd (including those from yours truly). Though Christian Rock is not my genre of choice, the film actually made me want to listen to some of his music.

Strange Negotiations exceeded my expectations, because it speaks greatly to the questions of: Who are we and why we are here? What do we do with the beliefs and values we are given? It gave room to analyze the intersections of Christianity and whiteness in America. The film flirted with introducing other cultural perspectives, but none were focused on. While Christianity was under the microscope, the film also highlighted some white male privilege, as wanderlust is not something that we all have an opportunity to explore. 2 Black Fists.

Two primary themes arose during the film: the struggle between both religion and spirituality, and faith and indoctrination. We’re in a time where many folks (especially our younger generation) are realizing that they can be spiritual without adhering to a specific religion. To me, spirituality means that one has a connection to a divine power.

Many folks are walking away from religion (Christianity) because they’ve identified a major gap between its theory and praxis. We exist in a time when the political “Christian” right is perpetrating unimaginable human rights infractions — like keeping children in cages. A true analysis of Christianity would find that Jesus himself cared much more about individual relationships and community than adhering to a rulebook. At times, he even challenged what was written with a common-sense application of how we should treat each other as human beings.

Every person should go through the process of interrogating their beliefs, whether they are faith-based or not. I do not believe that God wants us to devote our lives to anything we haven’t fully studied or explored. There is a difference between truly believing something in your heart and just blindly following leaders and institutions. Strange Negotiations tackles this, showing us one man’s journey through his complicated labyrinth of emotions while seeking truth, finding a way outside of what he’s always been told. Bazan said, “In the end, I realized I was challenging nothing more than an institution.” Wise words. 3.5 Stars.

Focusing on the spiritual journey of David Bazan, aka Pedro The Lion, Strange Negotiations comes to the Grace Street Theater tomorrow night. The writers behind Critiques For The Culture are intrigued.

Strange Negotiations is a new music documentary directed by award-winning filmmaker Brandon Vedder, and it is coming to Richmond this week. This documentary traverses several themes surrounding music, discovery, and faith in the life of David Bazan, aka Pedro the Lion. It will be shown at our very own Grace Street Theatre on Tuesday evening, June 25, at 7pm. A Q&A with David Bazan and Brandon Vedder will follow the film.

What Caught Our Attention?

Taneasha:

I’m looking forward to seeing an indie film that has been brought to Richmond. We all can get very comfortable here in our RVA bubble, and I think it’s great when folks from outside of our quarters can come through to shake things up. Being a fan of documentaries, especially those that follow a person’s personal journey, I’m interested in learning more about Bazan’s connection to his faith through the people he’s seen and the interactions he’s had on tour.

At face value, I wonder how much minority representation will be present, as the director and subject are both straight-passing, white-passing men of Christian faith. However, Vedder said that the making of this film has made space for his “… own [Christian] identity to be questioned and poked at,” and that is the part that I’m excited about. Part of Critiques for The Culture’s mission is to get underneath what is initially seen, challenge some of these norms, and dig into what folks are often afraid to say. I’m hoping that this film does the work of challenging some of the stifling ideals that follow the louder voices we see so often in spaces.

Brooke:

I’m interested in this film because it promises to highlight crucial themes that we often don’t dive deeply into: Who are we, really, when we rip away the veil of religion and are forced to look into the mirror for ourselves? Will we like who we see? Will we break away from our familiar beliefs? How will we continue to live in a world that tells us that tradition is king, once we begin to question those cherished traditions?

A big unknown is the amount of diversity that will be seen in this film. While it is very important to produce coming-of-age stories, I wonder if we will learn about the marginalized people in David Bazan’s life, and how they impacted his journey. Will this film be a Eurocentric, narrow-scope documentary that fails to incorporate the rest of the world, or will intersectionality take a central role?

More information about the film screening can be found on their Facebook event, and tickets, which are priced at $22.50, can be purchased on Eventbrite. Grace Street Theater is located at 934 W. Grace St, on VCU Campus.

In Critiques For The Culture’s latest contribution to GayRVA, Taneasha White and Brooke Taylor examine TheatreLAB’s An Octoroon, and ask: Did this play about racial relations in the 19th century — and today — achieve its intended goal?

Critiques for The Culture is a conversational podcast and radio show (on WRIR and WRWK) that focuses on the socio-political themes found within current movies, TV, and plays — covering all with humor. Hosted by two Black Queer folks of varying opinion, Critiques for The Culture aims to dissect our media, point out where we aren’t represented, and say what the rest of us are thinking. Taneasha and Brooke make up the CFC duo — a couple of Black Queer folks who love their community, and love watching TV and movies.

Critiques for The Culture is committed to uplifting the voice of the marginalized. We aim to discuss representation (or lack thereof) within present media, and invite you all to be a part of the conversation. Our critiques revolve around TV shows, movies and documentaries. In order to engage the local community, we have decided to venture beyond the airwaves and begin covering local plays for GayRVA.

An Octoroon premiered in 2014 as an adaptation of Irish playwright Dion Boucicault original, The Octoroon, which premiered in 1859.

There is definitely a lot to this show. The main plotline, which provides the reason for the title of the play, surrounds one of the main characters, Zoe, and the discovery that she has Black blood in her ancestry. Though no longer used in present-day conversation, the term “octoroon” refers to someone who is one-eighth Black and therefore eligible for sale. There are multiple men vying for Zoe’s attention, resulting in the attempted sale of herself, and her family’s estate.

Another plotline in the play focuses on Branden Jacobs-Jenkins, his personal struggle to adapt to the racism found within theatre culture, and his desire to stage this play in tandem with the racial themes that arise. An additional plotline is that of the Native American Wahnotee and the young Black character Paul, which showcases racial profiling and latent biases within the criminal justice system.

After speaking with the director, Dr. Tawyna Pettiford-Wates, and watching the show, it was evident that audience discomfort as a means to incite discussion was a primary goal for this show. For those who are unfamiliar with either this text or the work of Pettiford-Wates, the minstrel style of the show likely came as a shock, especially considering the recent discovery our Governor’s disappointing but unsurprising past.

Pettiford-Wates is both familiar and comfortable with minstrelsy as a genre, using this style as the crux of her company, The Conciliation Project. She says that through this method, we are able to “…peel away the layers of race, historic racism, and systems of oppression.”

Photo by Tom Topinka

Our Ratings

Our Critiques for The Culture rating is based on representation of marginalized folks, showcased with our Black fists. Our overall rating is the quality of the play overall, independent of the representation that may or may not be there, represented with stars.

Taneasha

For me, the best part of the show was the lead actor getting down to Crime Mob’s “Knuck If You Buck.” For those who are unaware, this is the unequivocal Black Millennial throwdown song. If it plays in public, everyone in the space is obligated to dance. It did what it was supposed to do, as far as getting the attention of the folks’ in the audience, but did it happen in the way it was intended?

We’re familiar with the concept of shucking and jiving, and while in 2019 we may not call it that anymore, there is still the idea that people of color are only good for entertainment — whether it be rapping, dancing, or throwing a ball. While the scene resonated with me, it was unclear if that clarity was consistent for the rest of the folks in the audience. This show is meant to act as a mirror, showing the audience more clearly how they have been perceiving others around them. I was left wondering if the non-Black folks in the audience saw their biases in the mirror, or if they just saw others laughing at the physical and outlandish humor that was presented.

As someone who works in activist spaces, I concur with the idea that spaces need to be carved out to have difficult conversations. I just wonder if the white folks in the audience picked up what the director was putting down, or if they just thought they were laughing at some clumsy negroes, witnessing enslaved women mirror the way they perceive Black women in America anyway.

As Black people in America, we are abundantly aware of our history in this country. I struggle with the notion that utilizing slapstick humor, the N-word, and imagery of lynched bodies is the way that change occurs. There was a scene towards the end where they flashed a real photo of a Black man who had been lynched. Though it aimed to serve as symbolism, it leaned towards trauma porn for me, as Black folks in the US are consistently bombarded with imagery of dead Black bodies. Social media has become the vehicle for modern-day lynchings, allowing images and video of those who have been murdered, via police brutality or otherwise, to circulate with speed, and with little censoring.

We know that during the time of legal lynchings, white folks used the imagery for postcards. They gathered their families around the trees from which our ancestors swung. They kept souvenirs of the dismembered. So again, the question is: who is this really for, and are these methods that you’re using plausible for that goal? 2.5 Black Fists.

I was drawn to the concept of “Black artistry,” as opposed to general artistry by someone who is Black. This topic arose in the very beginning of the show, when Branden Jacobs-Jenkins’s character repeated that he was a Black playwright. Oftentimes, folks of color or of gender/sexuality outside of white or cis/het norms are categorized into a box, and given accolades based on those titles, rather than the talent as a whole. Instead of being seen as a great pianist who is Black, we’re titled a “A Great Black Pianist,” as if the threshold is different outside of whiteness.

The acting was well done. I appreciated the adherence to the style of minstrelsy. The rules of present-day theatre are different than that of the melodramas of previous centuries — we’re used to more natural blocking of characters, rather than the actors purposefully turning to face the audience head-on each time they speak. The music cues during each entrance and exit proved very humorous, and added a light element to the show. All of the characters were purposefully over the top to fit the style, and I applaud them all for doing so believably. 3.5 Stars.

Brooke

The best-laid plans often go awry.

The play featured three enslaved women who all had darker complexions, and unfortunately their characters fell directly into common stereotypes of Black women: loud, inappropriate, and lewd. While the style of the play is minstrel, the depiction was not only uncomfortable but unnecessary, in my opinion.

Dido and Minnie were the two primary enslaved women that were shown, with Grace as a third that was presented later in the play. Dido and Minnie had more than one casually light conversation poking fun at the misfortunes of others on the plantation, or the prospect of other’s families being broken through the sale of persons. The topic of “sex” with a slave-owner arose, and they discussed which white men they would like to seduce — not to mention penis size.

For those of us who are familiar with African-American history, we can conclude that this is a scene that is meant to act as a mirror. Enslaved women were seen as salacious and insatiable, to the point where it was literally not legally possible to rape a Black woman in captivity. The notion was that Black women always want “sex,” regardless of how it is acquired, so there would be no point in debating whether the interaction was wrong. We are also familiar with the tropes of the “Welfare Queen,” “Angry Black Woman,” etc. So the laissez-faire attitude that was presented by Dido, Minnie, and Grace were caricatures of White America’s perception of Black women.

The prevailing issue, however, is that it probably wasn’t clear to a more far-reaching audience. For those that laughed at the conversations about “riding the Master”, it makes me wonder if they simply thought they were watching a live-action version of Jerry Springer, not a complex interrogation of race relations in America. Two Black Fists.

Making the audience uncomfortable was the director’s main goal. Mission accomplished.

Yet, I struggle to see the call to action. Having difficult conversations is a huge part of my chosen work in the world — it isn’t something I will ever shy away from. At the end of those conversations, however, everyone should be made aware of their role in the conflict and have action items for moving forward. Aside from the clear critique of using Native Americans as mascots, I failed to see these pieces within the show.

Perhaps this show and ones like it are simply meant to provide the spark for the conversation. I can respect that, but I ultimately feel that there was a disconnect between the intention and the impact. Black folks shouldn’t have to be re-traumatized (whether in the audience or on stage) in order for our white counterparts to potentially be rattled into action.

From a technical standpoint, the show seemed to be executed without a hitch. The music, lighting, stage props, and overall atmosphere were presented very well. I appreciated the multimedia approach that was taken. The actors’ performances were also great and their chemistry on stage was evident. 2.5 Stars.

TheatreLAB is known for pushing boundaries, representation of marginalized communities, and starting conversations — this play did not disappoint. There are still tickets left for the remaining shows, and this Friday, there will be a talkback discussion after the showing. Don’t miss it!

Check out theatrelabrva.org for more information, and then leave us a comment on our social media to tell us what you thought!

In Critiques For The Culture’s first contribution to GayRVA, Taneasha White and Brooke Taylor begin their representation-focused coverage of Richmond-area theatre with a review of all four plays included in TheatreLAB’s recent Women’s Theatre Festival.

Critiques for The Culture is a conversational podcast and radio show (on WRIR and WRWK) that focuses on the socio-political themes found within current movies, TV, and plays — covering all with humor. Hosted by two Black Queer folks of varying opinion, Critiques for The Culture aims to dissect our media, point out where we aren’t represented, and say what the rest of us are thinking. Taneasha and Brooke make up the CFC duo — a couple of Black Queer folks who love their community, and love watching TV and movies.

Critiques for The Culture is committed to uplifting the voice of the marginalized. We aim to discuss representation (or lack thereof) within present media, and invite you all to be a part of the conversation. Our critiques revolve around TV shows, movies and documentaries. In order to engage the local community, we have decided to venture beyond the airwaves and begin covering local plays for GayRVA.

This past month, four local theatres formed a collaboration for Womxn’s history month. Weinstein JCC, 5th Wall Theatre, TheatreLab, and Heritage Theatre all showcased one-act plays of varying theme, all written and directed by womxn, and all housed at TheatreLab.

Two of the four plays were written, directed, and performed by womxn of color, and all were from varied perspectives. In one, a current actress told the story of how she came to be in her current position. Another was told by a womxn who was enslaved. Another was from the perspective of a previous Israeli Prime minister, and the last came from a single mother getting back into the dating circuit.

Overall Similarities:

In addition to each play’s focus on womxn, there was also the non-existent fourth wall — all of the actresses spoke directly to the audience, providing their thoughts and their own narration of the plot. All except for Bad Dates seemed to ignore the traditional rules of creating a plotline, undercutting the standard expectation of rising action, climax, and resolution in a linear timeline.

Our Ratings:

Our Critiques for The Culture rating system is based on two categories: representation of marginalized folks, showcased with our Black fists; and our overall rating of the quality of the play, independent of the representation that may or may not be there; this rating is represented with stars.

Pretty Fire

Charlayne Woodard’s play about her life started right before her birth, highlighting her parents’ relationship. This play was well constructed and utilized its sole prop of a chair extremely creatively, setting up multiple scenes. Lead actress Haliya Roberts gave a near-perfect performance as she switched seamlessly between characters, giving each one their own little something that distinguished them from the others.

Pretty Fire tells a familiar story of a Black girl and her family that live in the North, but have roots in the South. This coming-of-age story clearly depicts the realization that racism has no preference for above or below the Mason Dixon Line. Strong themes of the impact of family dynamics, religion, and rape culture guide this play from start to finish.

Brooke:

Pretty Fire did a great job highlighting some of the fundamental challenges with being Black in America. As a child, Charlayne learns about the presence of what W.E.B. DuBois termed the Double Consciousness (known in the modern era as Code Switching), and how critical it is to survival. She also contends with being born female in a world that preys on femininity. 4.5 Black Fists.

Overall, this play had a captivating story, smooth transitions, and a terrific leading actress. Four Stars.

Taneasha:

As far as representation, Pretty Fire highlights the complexities of living life in America as a Black woman, from dealing with the sordid history of the US and all that it encompasses, to the added layer of having grown up during Jim Crow without understanding the impact. The writing, direction, and acting all did a great job of showing the differing perspectives of Black folks, and how geographic location and age play a role.

It could have been stronger if there had been more dissection of the problematic themes that came up, particularly with Charlayne and her younger sister’s desire for whiteness. Four Black Fists.

Overall, the show did a great job keeping your attention. Realizing that a show only has one person throughout can bring skepticism, but Roberts held the audience’s attention the entire time. She portrayed more than five different characters of varying age and gender, and all were clearly defined through voice and body language. Four Stars.

Bad Dates

This play had an interesting, but seemingly disjointed, plotline. Was the main character truly experiencing these complicated interactions, or was she a compulsive liar? Hard to tell. A blatant showcase of white privilege marked the end of the show, as even though she had been stealing funds from the restaurant, she was spared criminal charges.

Brooke:

This storyline was not catered towards Black or queer folks. Black and POC folks were simply not included — and that may be for the best, when one considers the role of queer characters in this play. The character had a particularly homophobic moment when stating emphatically that her date was gay simply because of the way he dressed and carried himself. The lone Black Fist is given for the fact that this was a female-led play that highlighted the (ever so deluded) realities of a woman in America. One Black Fist.

The theater space was convincingly transformed into a cozy bedroom, and the audience felt like a trusted friend that the main character confided in throughout the play. The lighting and audio was carried off without a hitch and definitely added a touch of sophistication. The main character seemed to connect well with her audience and drew laughs easily all night. While this play lacked a solid plot development, the experience was an enjoyable one. Two Stars.

Taneasha:

The main character is a white woman, and while the plight of a single mother is real, I am tired of plotlines meant to garner sympathy from the public being focused on people of privilege. The only Queer representation we have is that of her brother, about whom she speaks fondly, and that of a supposed gay man that she is set up with. Sure, we have all potentially met folks whose sexual orientation we assumed. In reality, however, none of us can honestly know if the person has not told us. Additionally, her reasoning was based solely on his usage of language and the fact that he was well-groomed — homophobic stereotypes. One Black Fist.

The actress did a good job of playing a believable character, as there were no unbelievable character arcs. I wasn’t sure why the main character’s shoe obsession was important, other than to potentially exemplify the expendable money she had, to set up her role in the money laundering. I appreciate the showcasing of the main character trying on different outfits, questioning both the audience and her daughter on their choices. Most of us can identify with testing out multiple outfits before a big interview or a date, maybe sending photos to friends for feedback.

The plot, however, had a sharp turn at the end that made the show feel highly disjointed. The love life of the character was at the forefront, with her career as a connecting link, but at the very end, the play shifted to legal trouble that ended up being swept under the rug by her newfound love interest. 2.5 Stars.

Message From A Slave

Message From a Slave was reminiscent of what would happen if Tyler Perry decided to do a stage version of 12 Years a Slave, but with no plot direction. It was a two-act play, but the separate acts had essentially no connection, aside from the character being present in both.

The first half takes us along a young woman’s journey as she is taken from her village in Africa, in chains, to America, and in great detail, showcases her struggles. The second half of the play showed the daughter that she had given birth to several decades later. This character transitioned from chair positioned stage right to center stage, and relayed a full-blown sermon that explained why Black folks are at fault for our own enslavement. Because our faith in God isn’t strong enough, and because we don’t pay enough attention to our husbands or our children, the Black community is failing, and it 100% our fault– and no one else’s.

Brooke:

It is difficult to leave me speechless but this play did, and for all the wrong reasons. If I knew no better, I would have bet my salary that a white person wrote the script. I cannot comprehend the level of self-hatred that the author of this play must hold. And yes, it was that bad. The first act of the play was simply pain-porn, at the expense of the ancestors of those in the African Diaspora. The sounds of whipping and the vivid details of assault were triggering, to say the least.

However, the first act could have been explained as a misguided attempt to illustrate the horrors of American slavery. It was truly the second act that made this play unbearable. The actress recited a list of allegations against Black folks that was so disgusting, all I could do was seethe with anger. Message from a Slave receives the lowest possible rating from me, half of a Black Fist.

The actress herself did an excellent job bringing this horrid play to life. She should be commended on her ability to make something so bad look good. The props worked well with the content of the play. However, this was not enough to warrant a good rating. One star.

Taneasha:

As far as representation goes, this show gets a .5 Black fist. This centered around the lives of African/African-American people, but was showcased in a way that was painful to watch. The first half of the show was a marvelous exemplification of pain-porn, leaving the viewers wondering who this 10-minute whipping-post scene was really written for. There was nothing that stood out about this particular character; it felt like we were just being taken through what happened to the enslaved post-capture, and that isn’t a lesson any of us asked to re-learn.

Aside from the second act being completely disengaged from the first, it also did the community the disservice of blaming the marginalized and oppressed for their placement within the American caste system. Instead of identifying the longstanding effect that slavery has had on our country, and how we are still operating today out of systemic oppression, this play blamed bad attitudes and the usage of microwave ovens as the reason for our hardships. This fed into essentially every stereotype that White America has created and attempted to hold the Black community to, and the fact that it was coming from a Black woman doesn’t do anything but give it validation. .5 Black Fists.

This play gets a .5 rating overall. The actress herself did a good job in the portrayal, regardless of how problematic the content was. That is the only aspect that was memorable. .5 Stars.

Golda’s Balcony

Golda’s Balcony was told from the perspective of Golda Meir, Israeli’s first and only woman Prime Minister. It was very reminiscent of a war movie, but from a female perspective, in a stage play. Golda’s character showcased her difficulties and her wins throughout the 1973 Yom Kippur War, and the Holocaust, and how her relationships were impacted.

Brooke:

Representation-wise, this play hit on two main things — women in leadership, and the Jewish community. Mrs. Meir seemed like a real badass and her story is inspiring on many levels. Jewish folks have a storied history, and have been the victims of terrible abuse in Europe and America. Golda’s story deserved to be told and appreciated. The play lacked representation in some key areas: POC involvement, queerness, and socio-economic diversity. 2.5 Black Fists.

As a history buff, I really enjoy documentaries, and this play fits the bill. I learned a great deal of information and left feeling very enlightened about the state of Israel during the timeline of the play. There were an abundance of props placed into the small stage space, and it provided a homey atmosphere for the audience. Golda’s Balcony was very informative but, at times, not as engaging as I expect from a stage play. Three Stars.

Taneasha:

When it comes to representation, I can give this play two solid stars. I appreciated the focus on the Jewish community, but would have liked more detail into how the Holocaust affected her and her family directly. A woman prime minister still isn’t extremely common, and Meir was the fourth in the entire world, and the first in Israel, so there is a lot of power in lifting up that story. Two Black Fists.

Overall, Golda’s Balcony receives three stars from me. I think that if you aren’t interested in war-focused movies, than this would not hold your interest. The actress did a great job inserting humor, and she was very believable and likable as a main character. All other characters proved to be auxiliary, and lacked the depth that we saw in some of the other plays. However, it was a solid show overall. Three Stars.

All in all, we had a good time watching the shows put on by these four different theatres, and spending time in TheatreLAB is always a highlight of the week. We encourage you all to join them during the rest of their season — they have some great shows lined up!